Filed under: Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, China, Confidence, Dad, Daddyhood, Education, Emotion, Family, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Otis
Hello I’m back.
And the good news, it’s not for long …
Not because I’m going away again, but because it’s almost the holiday season so you – and I – get a break from this blog for a month.
A MONTH!
So with all the horrors on in the world, at least there’s that positive news to look forward to.
Anyway, as you can tell, I am back from the UK and there’s one main reason for it.
Today my beloved, wonderful, brilliant son – Otis – turns 9.
All those cliches of ‘they grow up so fast’ turned out – as many cliches do – to be true.
And while I wish it wasn’t, because it means we’re already at the halfway point to official ‘adulthood’, the fact is I can’t turn back time and every year with him just keeps getting better and better.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, there’s moments that test us … but even that is a sign of good stuff.
His desire for more independence.
His interest in things we don’t know or yet understand.
His network of mates with their codes and slang that reduces them to giggles.
But all of this is through the filter of being a good kid.
A compassionate, considerate, thoughtful boy.
Certainly more than I ever was at his age. Hell, more than people 5 times his age.
His awareness of issues such as equality, gender neutrality, prejudice and racism is wonderful. As is his assurance of which side of the fence he lands on all these issues.
Yes … we have had a big part to play in that, but it’s his curious mind that led him to the questions that allowed us to have conversations with it.
But it’s his perseverance in the face of adversity that is inspiring.
As I’ve written before, Otis has dysgraphia … a form of dyslexia that severely affects how he learns, specifically when requiring motor skills.
It means using with a pen is very difficult for him. As is his ability to process information in certain situations.
He knows he has it. He knows it can frustrate and challenge him … but he also has accepted and embraced it in the knowledge it can never be ‘cured’, only managed.
That he has been able to deal with that in a way where he is still able to thrive at school – especially in subjects such as reading, maths and creative writing – is testimony to his character and his desire to learn and do things well.
As I have also written about, his school deserves a lot of credit for this.
They have actively created the conditions for him to be able to do this. Not only that, they appreciate there’s little value forcing him to use a pen when that causes him problems and distress … especially when he shines so brightly when allowed to use a keyboard or use talk to type.
It not only means they appreciate the issue is HOW Otis learns rather than his capacity TO learn, it means they are focused on his potential rather than his challenges – which is exactly what a school should do, but we know rarely does for a whole host of reasons that I wrote about here.
What is also wonderful is how he is supported by his friends.
Back in my day, kids seized on the slightest weakness and used it to taunt you mercilessly.
But this generation aren’t like that. They’re supportive, encouraging and helpful.
In fact his friend Archie recently said to him, “I wish I had dysgraphia so I could use a computer all the time too”.
I hope that continues … but I am grateful for it happening now.
And today he turns 9.
NINE!!!
I remember that day in Shanghai when he was born like it was yesterday.
The early morning realization it was happening.
The 300 step walk to the new hospital near our home.
The wait.
The pushing.
The birth.
The tears of happiness.
The stupid first photograph. [See below]
The phone call to Mum.
The pink onesie.
The takeaway delivery.
The utter exhaustion. [Sorry Jill, I know you did all the work but …]
The constant wake up and marvel at him while checking he’s alive.
And now … 9 years and 4 countries later … we’re here.
I love you Otis. You have done so much for me I can’t put it into words.
But I’ll try.
You’ve made me a better person.
A better human, a better husband and – hopefully – a better dad.
More open.
More understanding.
More aware.
More appreciative.
More desperate to make you proud.
I wish with all my heart my Mum and Dad could have met you.
I know they would have loved the hell out of you.
Not just because you’re their first [and, let’s face it, only] grandchild … but because you’re a curious, cheeky, kind and happy, compassionate and passionate kid … bursting with energy, imagination and a deep sense of righteousness, all held together with a deep respect for being precise, considered and thoughtful.
Bloody hell! Talk about showing me up.
I’m proud to be your Dad.
I love seeing you develop and grow every day.
Watching you commit with a fierce focus on things you want to master … whether that’s Rubik’s Cubes, Yoyo’s, swimming, Mario, finding the funniest Reel or getting Robux out of me.
But it’s more than that …
It’s your understanding of who you are, regardless of others influence or pressure.
Your vegetarianism.
Your disinterest in sport.
Your physical and emotional boundaries.
There are adults who haven’t worked that out yet, let alone feel comfortable enough to acknowledge it … but you have and do. It’s amazing.
It’s one of the reasons I have more faith in your generation to take us to a better place, than I do of mine.
And I promise I’ll do my best to stop us fucking it up so you have a chance to make it happen.
Because the greatest gift I could have is to see you grow and blossom for as long as possible.
To be able to watch you discover your life of adventure and fulfilment.
To witness the choices you make for the life you want to create.
That would be everything to me.
Not because I have any expectations, but because I just want to see you live and embrace your life.
I love you so much Otis.
Never stop being just who you are.
The happiest of happy birthday’s to you my wonderful son.
Dad xox
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Brand, Brand Suicide, Colenso, Colleagues, Context, Culture, Dad, Distinction, Dysgraphia, Effectiveness, Emotion, Empathy, Equality, Fatherhood, Football, Jill, Leadership, London, Loyalty, Management, Marketing, My Fatherhood, Nottingham Forest, Otis, Parents, Perspective, Police, Relevance, Resonance, Respect
I hope I’m a decent leader.
While I know there will be some people I’ve worked with, who definitely won’t hold that view … I hope the majority do.
Because – believe it or not – I try hard to be.
Sure, I make some mistakes.
And I can definitely be a pain in the ass.
But I am committed and invested in being the best boss I can be.
I consider myself fortunate because over the years, I’ve had incredible ‘teachers’.
From my parents to mentors to some old bosses … and of course, a few who were so shite, they taught me what not to do, haha.
And while there are many things I believe, adopt and hold dear, one of the most important is: always back your team in public and resolve disputes in private.
It sounds obvious … and it is … but it’s not always followed.
I’ve heard some shocking examples on Corporate Gaslighting … stuff that doesn’t just sound vicious, but the act of megalomaniacs.
But in terms of backing the team, there were few better than football manager legends, Brian Clough and Sir Alex Ferguson.
Yes, I accept they may have had some usual ways of doing this – and demonstrating this – but players knew that unless something exceptionally terrible had happened, their managers would always back them should they face public or managerial scrutiny.
Of course, there was a cost for this …
A cost that was simple but exhaustive.
And it was that the gift of being backed was reciprocated with dedication, focus and effort.
And that – to me – is key.
It’s OK to make mistakes.
It’s alright to sometimes mess things up.
But it can’t be because you were lazy or distracted.
I’ve said it many times, but I believe my job is to ensure that when someone in my team leaves, as they all will at some point, they go because they have a better job than they ever could have imagined.
Chosen for who they are, not just what they do.
Known for what they’ve created, not how well they’re known.
Chased for what they’ve changed, not what they maintained.
OK, there are some exceptions to that – mainly personal reasons, like love or a chance to chase something they’ve always wanted – but I believe I have a responsibility to them to help develop their natural talent, find and release their distinct strategic voice and move things out the way so they can create the most interesting shit of their lives.
It’s why my absolute worst scenario is someone leaving for a sideways move.
Oh my god, I would honestly feel I’d failed them.
And that’s why I place so much importance in backing them and showing my belief in them.
That doesn’t mean it’s blind faith.
We have very honest conversations a lot.
From gentle chats to bi-annual check-in/reviews … but they’re in private and focused on being through the lens of me wanting them to win.
Whether I achieve this is something only they can say. I hope most would agree with it [even those when we’ve parted ways] but if not, then I can assure them I’m working harder to be better.
The reason I say all this is because I saw something recently that I thought was a perfect example of backing the team.
It’s from the British Police.
Now they are getting a lot of stick at the moment. A lot totally deserved.
But this time it’s not them trying to justify an indefensible act … it’s something that resonated with me, because of Otis’ dysgraphia.
It was this.
The British Police – or maybe it’s all Police these days – have a bad reputation.
It’s manifested in mistrust and a lack of people wanting to sign up.
And while I fully appreciate they have a tough job and want to get better [as we saw with West Midland’s Police hiring my mate, Kay, to be their ‘artist in residence’ to better understand and connect to youth culture] … it’s acts like this that are more likely to help the public see the human side of the force as well as the compassionate side.
Anyone who runs a team knows it can be a painful job.
Some days it can feel more like being a cat-litter tray.
But when they know you’ll back them, they’ll back you with their talent, focus and commitment.
Well done Carlisle Police … we need more backing of people with neuro-diversity. Because the more we back those who are different, the more they will show the difference they can make.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Childhood, Confidence, Context, Creativity, Differentiation, Education, Effectiveness, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Fatherhood, Food For Thought, Jill, Mediocrity, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Parents, Prejudice, Relevance, Resonance, Respect, School, Trust
A few weeks ago I wrote about Otis and his love of the Rubik’s cube.
His ability to solve them blindfolded.
How he’s found the cube community to be nurturing and inclusive.
Well recently Otis reminded me of kids endless capacity to be more than just curious … but committed.
You see over the past few weeks, two new things have entered his world.
Yoyo’s and Table Tennis.
I don’t just mean passing interest, I mean a full commitment to see what he can do with it.
Now I appreciate this is a bit easier for him than it was in my day … because he has YouTube to help educate and inspire him.
But my god, his focus and energy has taken my breath away.
In a matter of weeks, his abilities have gone crazy. I appreciate this is the sort of thing you would expect a Dad to say about their kid, but I promise I’m being as objective as I can be.
I’ll have to write about his Yo-Yo chops another day … but it’s unbelievable what he can do [though the innovation of the product is also mind-blowling] however it’s his love of table tennis that is a sight to see.
Part of this is because he’s not really into sports.
He does like tennis, but has no interest in things like football or – that school nemesis – cross country.
But what is great about loving sport that involves hand/eye co-ordination is that it develops his motor skills, which will be permanently affected because of his diagnosis of dysgraphia.
For a while, he’s been hitting a table tennis ball against a window at home with a bat.
So far so good.
But this weekend we took him to the NZ Table Tennis association so he could see what it is like on a full sized table.
And rather than be intimidated or nervous, he loved it.
More amazing, after a bit of getting used to the new dynamics and environment, he was pretty good at it.
Of course I’m talking about the basics of table tennis, but it is his ability to throw himself into things and desire to get better that is fantastic … not so he can beat others, but so he can see how good he could be at something.
I’ve written about this before, but there’s far too many adults who are focused on speed rather than substance.
A desire to take short-cuts to move up than to build a solid layer of ability and experience.
I don’t blame them for doing this – the system is against them – but it also means the people who will be in-charge of the next generations development will be people who may not fully appreciate what development really is. Or can be.
And that’s why I’m proud of Otis. He wants to do it right.
He gets massively frustrated when his ability doesn’t match his ambition … but he works at it till it surpasses it.
His focus and desire is a joy to witness.
His pride of achievement.
His fast-track of growth through the unrelenting focus and commitment of an 8 year old. An 8 year old with dysgraphia.
And while his neurological situation may mean he has to learn in ways that are different to normal approaches, that does not mean his abilities or potential are less.
Not in the slightest.
And that’s what I wish schools and governments understood.
That some kids learn – or have to learn – in personalised ways.
Sure, a lot of schools find that hard because of a lack of resource … but there’s still too many who see teaching about group standardisation than individual potential.
At a time where there is a lot of talk of kids being lazy or under the spell of social media [which is not necessarily true but convenient for older generations to use to mitigate blame] … maybe it’s worth remembering that by not creating and funding a system that recognises, appreciates and encourages individual needs, it’s not their fault they don’t want to follow a path that works against them, its ours.
Add to that the disappointment and disillusionment they see in the adults who blindly followed this ‘one-size-fits-all’ system and ideology, and I’d argue they’re smarter than us.
So while Otis is just doing what he loves, I hope one day he realises he’s a quiet revolutionary … one who shows his focus, dedication and desire to be better can break down barriers.
For him. And the millions of kids who have so much to offer and give, like him.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, Cannes, Creativity, Culture, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Family, Friendship, Holiday, Jill, Love, Martin Weigel, Metallica, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Nottingham Forest, Otis, Parents, Paul, Paula, Planners, Planning, Queen, Shelly
So let’s start with the good news …
This is my last post until the 26th June.
That’s over 2 weeks of peace and quiet!!!
You lucky people. [Though who knows if anyone reads this now comments have stopped]
The bad news is this post is going to be loooooooong. Proper long.
And possibly ‘jealousy inducing’ … or at least insult igniting, given the blagging I’ll be acknowledging.
But there are valid reasons behind it all. Honest.
First up is that I have a bunch of birthday’s to acknowledge …
First of all is mine, because on Monday, I turn 53.
FIFTY FUCKING THREE!
This means I am closer to 70 than 30 …
Normally that would be depressing as fuck, but I was recently given the best present ever when Metallica’s management said I was, “immune from maturity”.
Of course, I appreciate under normal circumstances this would be a big diss, however at my age – and when they represent genuine Rockstars – this may be the best compliment ever.
Let’s be honest, it’s going to have to be because there’s not many more reasons to be happy.
But 3 days later, it’s my darling Jill’s birthday.
Whereas I get more immature with age, she gets more wonderful.
I wish that was simply my attempt at being a romantic husband … but she really is.
I would love to detail how, but as I’ve mentioned before – she hates the attention on her, especially on this blog – so just know it makes me very happy to see because she’s the best thing that has ever happened to me and is more than I deserve.
Happy birthday my darling Jill, I hope you have a wonderful, wonderful day.
Now you may think I have suddenly become a soppy-sod – and I am OK with that – but you may feel a bit differently when I tell you that on the night of Jill’s birthday, where most people would be having a celebratory dinner – I will be waving goodbye to her, getting on a plane and flying to England because the next day it’s …
Paul’s birthday.
That’s right, for the first time since 2020, I’ll be spending Paul’s birthday with him and seeing him and Shelly for the first time in over a year.
I’m so, so happy I can do that. I’m also so excited to see them.
The older I get, the more I want to be closer to them – even though I appreciate how ironic it is to say that when I have chosen to live just about as far away from them as I possibly can.
Who knows what will happen in the future to change that [actually, I do, I just don’t know when] but I’m thrilled I’m going to get to spend Paul’s special day with him and hang out with him and Shelly for a few days.
That I get to be with 2 of my most special and treasured people on their birthday .. means that however hard 2023 is, it is going to be a great year for me.
Thank god for horrific timezone difference between NZ and UK.
Which all leads to the final journey of my blog silence …
And that is me leaving Nottingham to fly to Cannes to present on stage with 2 more special and treasured people – Paula Bloodworth and Martin Weigel.
Like Paul, the last time I saw them in person was a year ago, so to not just see them … but present with them … is an utter thrill.
I say that, but at the time of writing this post, we have only written 4 slides so unless we pull our finger out, it may be a case of being happy to see them but a total nightmare to present with them – hahaha.
And finally, as much as Cannes can drive me nuts, it gives me an opportunity to see a bunch of old friends from my past which will be bloody wonderful – especially as George and Lee will be there and so it can feel like I’ve let comments back on this blog, haha.
So there you have it.
That’s why I’m not writing any posts for a couple of weeks.
And while some of you will claim its a massive holiday, it’s actually me reconnecting to life.
That’s honestly how it feels.
I appreciate that sounds overly dramatic … after all, it’s not like I don’t talk to them all pretty much every week.
And obviously, in the case of Jill, I get to see here every single day.
I also appreciate the privilege of being able to fly over there to see the rest of them – not to mention I am the one who put myself in the position of being away from them.
But this is more than just being in their physical company – which will be special in itself – it’s about the undivided time.
No zoom time limits … or snatched moments before the next interruption … actual time.
Time to go on endless tangents.
Time to go down multiple rabbitholes.
Time to enjoy the pregnant pauses.
Time to talk shit … rather than maximise the time allocated. Or allowed.
Time to be cocooned away from the other stuff that likes to interrupt and dictate.
And while many may think they get this every day, I’m not so sure.
Yes, being physically close to people you care about does – in theory – make this easier to do.
But proximity doesn’t automatically equate to intimacy.
You have to want it. Demand it. Not be satisfied with a different version of it.
And most of the time that’s not the case …
We don’t even realise it’s happening because we get so caught up in the whirlwind of life.
Dealing with the pressures, demands, expectation and – for some – the self-importance of our own lives.
And that’s why there is something to be said about living away from those that matter.
I know … that sounds the opposite of what I’ve just written … but hang in there.
You see I used to think the benefit of living around the world was that you could discover and explore possibilities you never knew even existed … let alone were actually possible.
And it’s true.
I’m not exaggerating when I say everything I have in my life – outside of Paul and Shelley – is because I chose to explore the world rather than stay in Nottingham,.
Every. Single. Thing.
That doesn’t mean people who stay where they are from can’t also discover new possibilities, but it’s definitely going to be harder which is why I will be forever grateful for the opportunity – and my naivety – to go and explore what life was made of, despite not having the faintest idea of what I was doing.
It’s why I always tell people who have been offered the chance to live overseas that they shouldn’t let the things they’ll miss, hold them back … instead, they should think about all the things they may discover.
And I still stand by that.
But of course, missing the people you love is a big thing.
A huge thing.
I definitely missed my parents every single day and I went through a lot of emotional challenges on that journey.
But I was also extremely lucky my parents wanted me to explore.
Of course they missed me.
Of course they would have loved me to be closer.
But they wanted me to forge my own life, not be restrained by theirs, which is an act of love that still takes my breath away.
Even more so when they could have – and maybe should have – asked me to stay, given my Dad’s health situation that happened 6 weeks before I was due to leave for Australia.
I offered.
I meant it.
But they said no … and I swear it’s because they knew if I didn’t go then, I may never go at all.
That’s just so typical of my parents … always wanting the best for me while also understanding the reality of me.
And while part of this was them having faith in the values they’d taught me – for example, chase a life of fulfillment, not contentment – I think another part is they realised something I’ve only just started to discover.
Distance doesn’t make the heart grow fonder, it makes your relationships more present.
Greater focus, awareness and understanding on what makes you work together. The confidence to dismiss the differences that stand in the way of your connection. The willingness to be vulnerable – not just to enable greater intimacy – but to acknowledge their desire to want to help you, even if you feel they shouldn’t need to. And an openness to the uncomfortable in the knowledge, you’re not being judged … you’re reaching out.
I appreciate this all sounds like a post-rationalisation for being away from the ones I love and care about.
And maybe a bit is.
But as I’ve said before, creating space so the people who matter get the best of me rather than what is left of me is important.
It’s not easy.
It comes with challenges and sacrifices.
But while proximity keeps you near, maybe – just maybe – distance helps close the gap.
See you in a couple of weeks.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, America, Attitude & Aptitude, Australia, China, Corona Virus, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, England, Family, Hong Kong, Jill, LaLaLand, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Nottingham, Otis, Parents
The above photo was taken back in 2020.
We were living in Fulham.
Everyone was working from home.
And we suspected Otis may have had COVID.
As it turned out, he didn’t – thankfully.
But I love that photo.
The closeness.
The intimacy.
The caring Mum and the curious kid.
A shared moment ruined by me coming in and taking a pic – as usual, hahaha.
But who can blame me? Those two are everything to me.
And the older I get, the more I realise how much time I didn’t spend with them.
That realisation started with COVID.
While the pandemic was so devastating to so many – it was very good to me.
I got to be with my family for longer than I’d ever been in our time together.
Waking up together.
Breakfast, lunch and dinner together.
Putting Otis to bed and then going to bed with Jill at the same time.
EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.
Now I know for so many that’s a regular thing but for me it wasn’t and the experience was wonderful and confronting.
Wonderful for how it made me feel. Confronting for how I had allowed that to happen.
Don’t get me wrong … I love work. Or should I say I love parts of work.
And as much as it may not be cool to say anymore, but I loved the travel.
Not being on a plane for the COVID years – bar, moving to NZ – felt like a genuine loss.
Not at first – initially it felt amazing, given how regularly I had been travelling – but after 2+ years, I was ready to hear those engines whir into life. Just not so regularly as I had before … because flying internationally at least once a week, every week for years was just plain idiotic.
And while I don’t want to let all of it go, I have been changing big parts of how I am choosing to live and it all came from something my Dad once said to me.
You see, my Dad had quite an eclectic early professional life.
Not just changing jobs, but whole industries.
I remember asking him why he had done it and he said this:
“I love you and your Mum. So if I’m going to be away from you both for most of the day, I better like what I’m doing because nothing would be so disrespectful as being away for something I hate”
Now I appreciate the privilege in that statement.
There are many who don’t have the opportunity to chase after things that interest them.
And for my Dad, that was enabled by the stability of my brilliant Mum – similar to what Jill has done for me in allowing me to uproot us every few years for an adventure in some other far distant part of the world.
But while I’ve generally enjoyed what I have done … as I get older, it’s becoming more and more apparent that I want to ensure my family is given even greater prioritisation in what I do. That doesn’t mean they weren’t before … but I realise they could have been prioritised a fuck load more.
In some ways, it’s a perfect time for this to happen.
I’m approaching a point in life where some decisions will have to be made regarding my future.
What do I want to do?
Who do I want to do it with – and for?
What do I want to explore, experience and achieve?
Where is the best place for us to be located?
What are the conditions we need to protect what we have?
For me, these are revelation questions.
Previously, I just went with whatever excited/scared me/us the most.
And while this doesn’t mean we’re now happy to settle – because let’s face it, I suck at it, thanks to my only-child inspired, competitive, curious and annoyingly ambitious energy – it does mean these questions ensure my/our decisions are focused on ensuring my family get the best of me, not just what is left of me because the one thing covid taught me is nothing is as important as being together.
It’s pathetic I needed a global pandemic to really drive that home.
But to paraphrase my dad, nothing would be as disrespectful to my family than ignoring what became one of the most precious times of my life with my family.
Thanks to Easter, I get to spend the next 4 days with them … hopefully eating chocolate.
So wherever you are and whoever you’re with, I hope you get to spend it with someone that matters.
Even if that’s just yourself.
Happy holiday … and I apologise for the indulgent, happy-clappy post of today.